


Two is Company

by AcreCalm



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AKA I am all about that, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Natasha wearing men's clothes, Non-Explicit Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcreCalm/pseuds/AcreCalm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Three's a Crowd)</p><p>Or: The time Steve finds Natasha in clothes that aren't hers. </p><p>They aren't his, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two is Company

Natasha gives him a look when he comes in; the one that says they both know exactly how she feels about him right after a run --

(Steve remembers letting her push him up against the wall, the feel of her thighs squeezing his hips and the way she pulled his hair when she arched back so beautifully in her ecstasy)

\-- but it isn't the inviting curl of her lips and impish smirk that makes his skin feel too tight, pulse hammering.

It's what she's wearing.

It's just a T-shirt, but it's a man's T-shirt. It pools and rumples around her, catches the contours of her body when she stretches up to put back the tin of tea he'd bought for her. The size makes her look girlish and innocent -- _ha_ \-- and only serves to emphasize the delicacy of her form. And judging by how she glances at him over her shoulder, Natasha knows exactly how much he loves the sight of her in his shirts.

Something had been bothering him, whispering in the back of his mind, and Steve puts his finger on it the moment she turned, cup of tea in hand and lips curled up wickedly.

She wasn't wearing his shirt.

It was Bucky's.

Natasha raises her eyebrows at him. Takes a ginger sip of tea.

(her hair is mussed from much more than sleep, and he can see the trail of love bites down her neck)

Steve spares only enough time to take the cup from her hand and set it down before he's pinning her up against the counter with low rumblings growling from deep in his chest against her throat. Natasha laughs, and her fingers dig into his shoulders.

"Is this what you did with him?" Steve's voice is dark, rasping. "Did you just let him take you?"

Natasha arches her neck when Steve follows the trail of dark bruises, fitting his mouth to the marks already there and half-imagining he can taste Bucky in them. Natasha's breath is soft against his ear.

"No," she curls one hand around the back of his neck, fingertips pressing into his skin. There's a hitch in Steve's rhythm, and she laughs again. At him, at them.  
At all of them.

He isn't offended.

Her free hand settles on his bicep, squeezes once.

" _I made him work for it,_ " Natasha confides, and Steve can hear how she savors the syllables in her mouth, tastes of the memory again. A good memory, it would seem.

He kisses her, hard and searching. Looking for the messages in the marks that Bucky left on her for him to find.

(And it is for him, he knows; Bucky can be gentle, gentler than seems possible)

He follows the guide, slips his shoulders under her knees and fits his hands to the imprint of fingers on her hips as he crouches down, nipping and nuzzling down the inside of her thigh.

Natasha stretches, basks in the attention. She is completely unashamed of her enjoyment. Always has been.

(He loves that about her)

She isn't wearing anything underneath Bucky's shirt. He can see how her nipples have perked up against the fabric, slide his hands up and down her hips without anything in the way. Just skin.

She breathes his name, high and soft. He looks up at her and winks. His lips spread into a boyish grin, and Natasha knocks her knee against the side of his head, trying not to look amused. She isn't wholly successful, and gives up on any attempt to school her expression when he licks into her.

Steve explores her as though it is the very first time, but he knows exactly where to suck, to graze his teeth and when to pause and kiss her gently before laving up more of her slick onto his tongue. He makes a soft sound against her by way of reprimand when her hips tilt into the movement, when she pushes his head against her more firmly. Natasha snorts, does it again.

Steve wonders if she can feel him smiling.

(The only thing he doesn't like about getting her off with his mouth is that he can't see her when she comes and the purest part of her slips through the mask to the surface)

"At ease, soldier," Natasha pants to him, and Steve sinks his teeth into her skin up by her knee. She curses cheerfully, tugs at his hair until it hurts.

Her hand dives between them when he stands again, grips and strokes him. He's hard, and Natasha seems to enjoy the feel of him with her fingers wrapped around him just so. She coos encouragement at the sounds he makes, smug at what she is able to make him feel. Her breath catches when he slips a finger inside her, and Steve smirks.

"Good boy," Natasha tells him.  
Cheeky, he bites her lip. She squeezes his cock, and he thumbs over her clit.

(It's always a challenge between them, a fight for each other)

Steve ducks against her neck groaning. Her free hand smooths down the nape of his neck, and she's speaking to him in Russian. He knows enough not to ask her what it means. The things she says at times like this must be spoken in the language closest to her heart. They will not be repeated later.

They push and pull, using sensation and feeling as a belaying line between them. It pulls tight under the force of pure affection, of their absolute knowledge of each other's bodies.

(Bucky's shirt smells like him, and it reminds Steve that he is a part of them, even when he isn't there)

 

She squeezes at his sides with her legs when he comes, waits patiently for his rhythm to return and strokes him down from his peak even as she urges him forward. Natasha is silent in her climax, and Steve fills the quiet by nuzzling against her cheek and telling her how beautiful she is.

He tells her that he thinks about her all the time, that she looks so good in his best friend's clothes, that her boys are so head over heels for her he can hardly believe it. That they are hers, and she theirs.

"I love you," He says to her once he pulls back from her neck. Steve is earnest like few people are anymore.

"Which one of us are you talking to?" Natasha teases, leans in for a kiss.

He tries to say it doesn't matter, but the words are caught up into her mouth. Steve presses them against her lips, traces with his tongue. Breathes out the barest shape of the syllables.

 

 

(It doesn't matter if he tells her, anyways)

(They all know)


End file.
